Up In the Stars
by BookEnchantress101
Summary: A The Little Prince AU. John Watson is an ex-military-soldier and works as a pilot to make enough money to live in London. His plane crashes in the Sahara, and he meets a strange child named Sherlock that looks like a prince from another planet... prepare for the adventures they're going to get into.
1. Chapter 1

Bright blue sky stretches its arms out into the horizon, as far as the eye could see. Only the large puffs of the cottony white clouds are there, mixing with the undisturbed blue.

Captain John Watson takes in a breath in fresh air as he flew across the terrain of freedom and dreams. In his mind flying in his plane is much preferable than being stuck on the ground with simple-minded adults.

They'd be talking about bridges, and golf, and politics and neckties. And so John would never talk about his drawings, or jungles, or boa constrictors...or stars. He would make small talk with the adults he met and speak in a voice that doesn't belong to him, but a simpleton who wonders about nothing but what he sees and must deal with everyday. When he did speak of these mundane things, adults would smile brightly, happy that they had met a sensible adult and someone to confide in about their husbands and their wives and houses and furniture.

There were people that John would think that they should seem open minded enough. And he would show them his picture of the boa constrictor that has eaten the elephant. They didn't notice this, of course, so they guessed what every 'sensible' adult would: a hat. It was not a hat! John wouldn't say that out loud, he'd nod instead and continue on speaking as a 'normal' and 'reasonable' adult.

And so John lived on alone, having no one to really talk to.

But there was someone who did get the picture right, who understood. A boy, a mysterious one, one who came from the stars. And with that image, a memory slowly resurfaces onto the surface of his mind, no longer buried deep in it.

A prince he called himself...

John grinned up in the air as he had done a hundred times and a hundred more times will he do it again. He's testing a plane for the Air Force army. From France to India. He does soon hope that he will be able to afford enough money to live at home. In London.

The radio sounded for specifics of his location, as John was about to answer the airplane juttered.

 _The engine_ , he realized. _The plane's going down._

And then there was darkness. Like night, but without the comfort of the moon or wonder of the stars.

John blinked. Then he immediately groaned. He crawled over to the open door, and got out. The second he stood up he immediately hissed in pain.

The pilot looked down to his right leg, _Damn leg's acting up again._

He limped over to the front of the plane to start digging it out of the sand. When he finally pulled the plane down (quiet painfully) he started to look in the engine.

 _Turbine engine failure_ , John concluded with relief and disappointment. _Well it's not fuel exhaustion. Much better than that, at least I won't have to walk around the sodding Sahara looking for unexistent gas. A malfunction other than-_

"If you please- draw me a sheep."

John froze, then looked frantically to his right. His eyes widened as they set on a raven haired child. The boy wore a dressy black overcoat, and a nice blue scarf was wrapped around his neck. His dark hair curled at his eyes. He stood upright in a proud posture, like he'd nothing to fear. His gleaning sword held by his outstretched hand was pointed at the dirt.

"What?"

"I said, sir, 'If you please- draw me a sheep!'" The little boy dressed like a prince exasperated.

John looked around wildly and ran around the plane, Where on earth had this little boy come from? He turned and faced him; he walked to him cautiously, looking at him up and down. "How-uh. How'd you- How did you get here? What are you doing here!"

"Waiting for you to draw me a sheep," grey-blue eyes stared at him back.

"No. No," John bent down to look at him in the eye. "Listen to me. Where did you come from?"

"Would you draw me a sheep," his pink lips exaggerated their words, like every other child would when they were talking to adult that wouldn't listen to them. Wouldn't understand them.

"Don't you know any other words?" John asked desperately, when the boy didn't answer. "Is that all you can say?"

"No. I also need you to draw me a bumble bee."

John stared back in wonder.

"Would you please draw me a sheep with a bee?"

John stood up and walked back to his plane in a dreamlike state. For if a mystery was too over-powering on you, you would have no choice but to listen to it. So in the middle of the Sahara Desert; death at his heels. John picked up his pad and paper and began to draw.

"Look I- I don't know how to draw." John told him.

The little boy stood firm and shrugged, "That doesn't matter."

"But I've only drawn one thing in my entire life- look, here." John showed him the picture everyone mistook for a hat.

The dark-haired, little boy smiled slightly, "Oh no. I don't want an elephant inside of a boa constrictor. A snake is very dangerous and extensive, and the elephant is too colossal. Where I live everything is very small. What I need is a bee with her sheep!"

John looked at the boy shocked, _How in hell?_

John flipped the page, and started to draw a sheep. "Do you live in a small town?"

The mysterious boy pointed his sword at the plane, "What sort of object is that?"

"It's an airplane. I was flying in it and it crashed to the ground." He showed the finished product to the little boy.

Bell-like chuckles and giggles erupted from his throat, "So you fell from the sky? Me too, how funny."

John narrowed his his eyes at the boy, "If you don't mind, I like my misfortunes taken seriously." John stopped.

"Wait- What do you mean 'you too'?"

"The bee's is looking radiant, sir. But uh- A rather sick-looking sheep, don't you think?"

"Is that how you got here? Were you in a plane that crashed?"

"Could you make another?"

"Why?!" John asked.

"Because the sheep doesn't look well." The boy slowly as if speaking to a child.

"You know this isn't how two people in their average desert get to know each other." John put the paper down, "Look, you ask me a question."

"Where did you come from?" The boy looked curious.

"Good!" John walked over to him, "To which I reply, Paris."

"Is Paris on this planet?"

John looked at him as if he was crazy, "Well of course it's on this planet!" He showed him the sheep.

Little curls of black hair shook from side to side, "Oh no. That won't do."

"Why not?"

"Well see for yourself," he pointed his sword at the parchment. "That is not a sheep, but a ram. Sheep don't have horns."

John took the booklet from him, "Do you think I don't have anything else to do? Do you think I have enough time to be drawing sheep and talking to a boy in a princey overcoat with a sword? I need to get my engine running so I don't stay in this desert and starve! And you think I can spend all my time drawing sheep?!"

The boy stood still and silent.

John took a breath and drew another sheep. The last one. "Here."

He showed him the drawing, "It doesn't have horns."

The strange boy shook his head.

"It's not sick."

Again he shook his head.

"Well?"

The boy opened his mouth hesitantly, "It's old."

Watson sighed and shook his head, "I'm sorry." He walked tiredly back to the plane. He sat down then an idea popped into his head. John took the pencil and paper and quickly scribbled something down. He ripped the paper from its book and handed it to the prince-like child,

"Here. It is inside this box. The sheep you ask for is in this box."

A happy grin split the little boy's mouth, "Thank you! This is exactly what I wanted!"

"It is?" John said baffled.

"Yes! Yes it is!" The boy looked at it with glee, and tried to peek through the little breathing holes to see the sheep. "Do you think it'll need a lot of grass?"

"Why?"

"I told you where I come from is very small."

"Well, don't worry," John reassured. "It's very small sheep."

The little boy smile was a little one, like him.

John thought to himself, whilst working on the plane, "Is Paris on this planet?" He wondered aloud, quoting this boy's words.

"Well of course it's on this planet," The little boy said. "Did you forget already."

"Of course I did not forget." John exclaimed.

"Shhh," He shushed John. "The sheep is sleeping."

The next night John tested his engine again.

The plane sputtered And jerked, but it just would not go up.

John grunted in agitation and killed the engine. He got out and slightly limped over to engine.

"Are sheep friendly to bees?" The little boy asked, watching the scene before him. "Do sheep eat flowers?"

"What? Umm...not now." John grunted, twisting a bolt.

"Would the sheep be friendly to the little bumble bee?" The little boy with no name asked in the morning.

"Uh- er yes! Sheep and bees can be nice to each other, besides even if they weren't the little bee could fly." John Watson tried to replace the cogs in his engine, though this one doesn't seem to fit.

"Do sheep eat flowers?" The little boy asked again after that.

John frustrated started turning the cogs harder, "What? Uh...yeah!"

"Besides the ones with thorns, of course?"

"No, they eat the ones with thorns as well." John removed the cog and started fitting another.

"But if they have thorns won't it protect them?"

"Maybe to stop them from getting picked, not from getting eaten."

"Then what is the point of having them?" The boy asked worriedly.

John groaned frustrated as it popped out of his hand and broke in front of him, "Of having what?!"

"THORNS!"

"I don't know! Maybe for spite!" John grabbed them and started fixing them together again, "They have thorns just for spite."

The little boy's nose flared, John had never seen such indignance in a child, the boy sat up, "I don't believe you. Flowers are weak and helpless, and they know it! How could they possibly face the world if they didn't think their thorns would protect them?"

John looked up somewhat annoyed, "Look what I'm trying to do is important."

"Important! Flowers have been growing thorns for millions of years and for millions of year sheep have been eating them just the same! Eating them! And you think that's not important!"

The boy with storming grey eyes glared at John, "I know one flower that's the most unique in all the world. And it grows no where but on my planet! But one day a sheep can come along and _destroy_ the flower in one bite, and you thing that's not important?"

John muttered an 'I suppose so,' and it enraged the little prince.

Little boy stood up on the rock he was holding and pointed his sword at John. "What **_you_** don't understand is that if a flower grows on one star, out of the millions of millions of stars in the sky is enough to make a boy happy enough to look at the stars and say to himself, 'Somewhere my flower is up there.' But is a sheep _ate_ the flower, it is enough to make all the stars go dark, and you think that's not important?!" The little prince turned and broke into a run.

John looked up, finally, and caught sight of the disappearing black coat. He immediately dropped his tools, "Wait! Wait, stop!"

"I most humbly apologize!" John looked around frantically, "I was acting like a grown up! Your flower is very important! I swear it!" He too started to run, run after the little prince. 'This has got to be the most ridiculous thing I have ever done.'

John returned to the camp alone. He sat in front of the fire, and realized with unsurprised guilt that he missed that little prince. He also realized that 'little prince' is what he'd been calling him, and he's no idea what his name actually was.

And he'll never find out.

He took that time to draw. He felt weird about it, considering the fact he had only draw boa constrictors, and elephants, and stars.

He drew the little prince, so he wouldn't forget him. Because he would never see him again-

"I'm hungry." A tiny voice called out. _Speak of the devil._

John turned, he grabbed the food across from him, "I have your supper right here." He gave the small meal to him.

"Is this all you have," The dark haired boy asked.

"Well at the moment, yes." John admitted, "I'd advise you save the rest of that for tomorrow, that is unless you're very, very hungry."

The boy blinked, and took one half of an apple, "This'll be quite enough then." He bit into it, slowly and John sat next to him.

"That-uh problem you addressed to me. About the flower. In fact all flowers and sheep. I've come to realize that that is very important. So important in fact, I cannot find anything else more important. So," John cleared his throat awkwardly. "I haven't gotten the chance to apologize. I'm sorry. I was acting like a grown up."

The little prince looked at him and gave a slight smile, "You were born in Paris, did you say?"

"No I wasn't born in Paris. It's where I live now. I was born in London, and yes, it is a part of this planet."

"What's it like?" The boy wondered aloud.

"London...is unlike any place I've ever seen. It's filled with people. And so many shops, and buildings, and parks. The weather is perfect, in my opinion, though many people would like to disagree with me. It cold, but all you need is the coat you're wearing and you can enjoy it. Besides you get used to it after a while. The people that are in it are the most interesting. Believe me, there's never a dull moment. It's my home, but I can't go back there. I haven't enough money to afford it."

"You were in the army weren't you?" The boy deduced sullenly.

John looked at him shocked, "Yes, how-"

"You're tan. You have a psychosomatic limp, seeing as I couldn't pin point any wound on your leg. I bet it's caused by war, which would also explain the gunshot wound on your left shoulder, seeing as your always favoring it. You mutter to yourself about machines not being nearly enough easier to fix as humans so simple: army doctor." He said simply, "If you're wondering how I know about the army and wounds as such, is from a man with a bunch of books. He told me the next planet I would most likely visit is this one and he tells me about the dangers of it, so he tells me to read about war. Of course this isn't the first planet I was dropped off on, obviously."

John stared, lost in shock for the third time that.

"What- what is your name?"

The boy sat straight, "The name is Sherlock." He giggled a little, "Though my flower calls me Little Prince."

John tried to shake off the shock, but he couldn't. Instead he outstretched an arm for him to grab, "Pleased to meet you Sherlock, my name is John Watson."

 _Sherlock._

Sherlock looked at his hand and mimicked his expression, putting a hand out to air.

John Watson couldn't help but smile and chuckle softly. He took Sherlock's hand and shook it, "This is how you greet a person."

"Oh."

"You have two names." Sherlock observed, "Why?"

 _Funny how incredibly book smart this child could be, but how ignorant to people he is._

"Usually most people have two names: a first name and a surname. My first is John, and my surname is Watson. You can call me John."

"Okay," Sherlock said pensively, committing it to memory. "John..."

"Anyways, I have been giving this a lot of thought, and I think I've come up with a solution to remove any possible danger that would come to your flower."

The winter eyes were lit with excitement and they stared at him in anticipation, "So there are two: one, you could put a muzzle on your sheep. That way it won't disturb bee nor your flower." John waited, "and two, if you could describe your planet to me in excessive detail, I'll put a fence around your flower."

Sherlock was silent for a moment, and after what John thought was a no, he said, "Would you really do that?" The little boy looked at him with disbelief, as if no one had ever really helped him like that.

John grinned and nodded as he swiftly got out a pencil and paper and he begun to draw.

 ** _"London?"_**

 ** _"Yes London."_**

 ** _"It sounds nice, I would like to visit it one day."_**

 ** _"Really?" Sherlock nodded, "I feel like I could fit right in there just fine. After I go back to my planet, of course."_**


	2. Chapter 2

John Watson, ex army doctor, who was trapped in the middle of the Sahara with no food or water at sight, flicked out his pencil and began to draw. John drew a big circle, almost covering the page.

"Smaller," The little prince said.

John shrugged and flipped the page, drawing a smaller planet.

"Smaller." Sherlock looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, "It's got to be small, Mr. Watson."

"Doctor." John muttered under his breath. He drew an even smaller planet, not even the size of his pinkie finger.

Sherlock nodded happily, "I have three volcanoes."

"How big are they," John asked, "compared to you."

"Knee-length. I have to clean them out everyday."

"By yourself?" John questioned, surprised.

"There's no one else. I also have three Burbub bushes, but you don't have to draw those in. They haven't grown quite yet. My house is on the other side, and you don't have to draw that in either. And so on this side is where my flower lives, Irene."

"Irene?" John questioned.

"Yes, that is her name." Sherlock defended. "When she first blossomed, I was afraid she was going to be a Burbub. But then on that yellow morning, she blossomed.

"Good morning!" Sherlock smiled at the lovely, red flower.

"Stop," a hand appeared signaling for him to move.

Sherlock backed away, "What is it?"

"Give me a moment to wake up..." she yawned. Then she rose up and looked at Sherlock, and smiled.

Sherlock stared, taken aback a little. "How beautiful you are," He awed, no filted in his mouth.

She smirked, "Yes I know." She laid down again and pointed he leg up at the sun, "I was born at the exact moment as the sun."

Sherlock shook his head. "No, I didn't know that," he admitted.

She smiled at him with bright white teeth, "Irene." She said.

"Huh?"

"My name is Irene. Did you know you're quiet selfish?"

"Selfish?"

"Yes, you're doing what you want to do, which is staring at me. Instead of what I want to do." She pointed out, petulantly.

"What do you want to do?" Sherlock asked.

"It's not what I want to do, its what I need."

Sherlock stared at her blankly, "And that is..."

"Water!" She stated.

Sherlock nodded, "I'll get it for you right away."

"I got it for her everyday. And everyday, I would take care of her."

"It get cold at night," The rose said. "Do you have a glass bowl I could put over my head?"

"You cannot use that, the night air is good for you." The little prince said, "Without it, you'll grow weak."

"Do you love me?" Irene asked.

"Yes, very much. You've made my planet beautiful." He smiled brightly.

"Well then, I need a bowl." She said.

"I promise, Irene, that you'll get used to it-"

"Do you love me?" She stated again.

"Yes, very much so." Sherlock answered.

She huffed, "I don't believe you. If you loved me, you would know how cold I am."

Sherlock felt at a loss, so he went to his house. He didn't have a glass bowl, so he got the next best thing: a skull.

"A skull?" John looked at him with his eyes the size of saucers.

Sherlock nodded, "Uh huh. I found it around the volcanoes. I found out later that it was in fact human-"

"A human skull!?"

"Well yes, I suppose so. An animal skull wouldn't do. No not at all. Flowers are afraid of animals, you see. Over those periods of time the skull has proven to me quite useless until Irene came. Yes, she fit into it quite well. It allowed the sun to shine through and she says, it's better than being naked. Though I realized I hadn't understood what she meant about if I really loved, which of course I did, but I was so unhappy." Sherlock's eyes were downcast and sad. Lost in his mind he said, "Then I realized I didn't know very much of anything."

"I don't know about you and the people of your planet, John. But on my planet, we have to be the best, me and my flower. We need to know what we can do and be able to do it perfectly. I'm a Sherlock, and being ignorant to my fate would actually be the worst possible thing in the world. To make understand, Dr. Watson, what would it be like not being able to help anybody with your doctor skills. Withholding your gifts and talent because you just weren't sure. I'd understand that would be quite painful."

Sherlock looked over to the fat, mysterious moon, "So I decided to leave my planet and go out into the universe to learn something." Sherlock sighed, "I was wrong to leave her, I know that now. But I didn't know it at that time. I was too young..."

"One morning I cleaned out my volcanoes. Checked for Burbubs and put all my things in order."

Sherlock removed the skull off the rose. Irene smiled at him,

"Good morning," she chirped.

"Good morning," The little prince greeted.

"You're all dressed up." The rose observed.

Sherlock nodded, "You look very handsome."

"Thank you."

Irene hesitantly said, "You're going away, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

Sherlock nodded sadly, "Yes."

"And it's my fault, isn't it," Sherlock shrugged.

"Will you be gone for long?"

"Perhaps."

"I see," Irene nodded. "I've been very foolish, haven't I?"

Sherlock shook his head.

Irene laid on her back and crossed her arms under her head, "I wonder who will be here for me to call on." She sighed wistfully. "There are those two caterpillars, but I don't like them. But one has to put up with them if one wants to meet butterflies."

Irene turned her head to look at Sherlock, "Well if you are going- go."

Sherlock stood up, "Goodbye." He choked, trying to hide his tears.

Sherlock walked away to the other side of his planet. He held his sword in the air and in no time he was flying, held up by dozens of doves and birds. He flew across a planet with a bunch of patterns of lands covering it, like a colorful Mesa valley. On top of the patterns of lands, Sherlock could make out a bunch of little model houses.

"How interesting..." Sherlock mused. He landed upon the mysterious planet with an embarrassing amount of clumsiness.

"STOP!"

Sherlock jumped and turned around. He watched as a pudgy man- wearing a quite expensive suit- furiously stomped up to him. He had an exaggerated crown sitting atop his head, along with a black umbrella tucked underneath his arm. He held himself in a regal manner, but Sherlock had a feeling that he wasn't of royalty.

"You can't pass the border without papers!" He exclaimed.

Sherlock looked at him quizzically, "What papers?"

"The papers that you use to get across the borders?"

"What border?"

"Why, that border over there!" He pointed to the red line Sherlock's foot had stepped on. In fact, there were red borders all around the place, blocking all different patterns of lands from each other.

"Do you have your papers?!"

"No."

"Then you cannot carry one as you will!" He bellowed, pudgy round nose turning redder by the minute.

Sherlock backed away from him. "STOP!"

"You almost backed away into another country!" He exasperated. He pulled his umbrella out from under his arm and leant on it, "What are you? A smuggler? A pirate? An idealist? Speak up, will you?"

"What are you?" Sherlock asked, "What's your name."

The man puffed out his chest, "My name is Mycroft Holmes." He said, as if Sherlock should know. She scoffed, "I can see you're from a remarkably tiny planet. One that has three volcanoes and is pestered by those disgusting Burbubs."

"How did you know that?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "Common sense. Easy deduction. The ash and minerals on your coat were enough. So, what are you?"

"I'm ignorant." Sherlock said, desperate to get out. This man was like a hawk always watching you with that eye of his.

"Well you'll grow out of it." He brushed it off, "Now I this country is too small for the both of us, but I'll make you a deal. You see that country a foot to your left, I'll be willing to sell it at a reasonable price."

"Your Majesty, er..for such a small planet, why would we need borders?"

"Why would we need borders?" He mimicked incredulously.

"Yes. Why do we need borders? You told me to ask questions."

"B-But even a child knows why we need borders!"

Sherlock looked down sullenly, "I don't."

"Well, of course you don't understand. You're a child!" He wrinkled his fat nose condescendingly. "Where are your papers," he asked again.

Sherlock shook his raven head, "I don't have any."

"Wuh-What!" Mr. Mycroft stammered, "Then you can't stay!"

"I'll leave then." Sherlock simply stated.

Mycroft nodded, "Where's your passport then?"

Sherlock shrugged, "Don't have that either." He felt the birds come back and lift him up.

"But wait! You can't leave without a passport!" But Sherlock was already flying away, through the universe. "COME BACK HERE! GET OFF THIS PLANET! COME BACK HERE!"

He wasn't flying for long before he felt the claws of the birds release him from his grip and drop him onto another tiny planet.

There was a young, dark brown haired woman on a type writer muttering things to herself, while looking in a telescope.

"Good morning." Sherlock greeted.

"Planet number 510... 217 going to explode in ten days at most..." A shooting star raced by, and the lady excitedly typed up, "plus one... five hundred million- thirty two!"

"Five hundred million- thirty two what," Sherlock asked.

"Five hundred million- thirty two plus three...er uh- those things." She waved Sherlock off, "Five hundred million- thirty five!"

"The stars?"

"Yes! The uh..." She looked at Sherlock, completely bewildered. "Stars."

"Why are you counting the stars?"

"Because I own them," she explained. "I want to see how many I have."

"The name's Sherlock." He greeted, "Yours would be..."

"Holmes. Eurus Holmes."

"Holmes?" Sherlock questioned, "Do you know Mycroft?"

Eurus scoffed and shook her head, "I'm better than that oaf." And continued typing the stars.

"Well, Eurus, what good does it do to own the stars?"

"Because it makes me rich," she said jittery.

The little prince cocked his head to the side, "And what good does it do to be rich?"

"What?" Eurus shook her head, "I don't know."

"And why try to own the stars?!"

Eurus put an arm on him, "When you find a diamond that doesn't belong to anyone, it's yours. If you have an idea before anyone else, it's yours." She stood up and started trading through the hundreds of slips of papers, "So I had the the idea of owning the stars."

"I don't understand."

"Well of course you don't understand," she laughed. Eurus ruffled the boy's thick tuffs of hair, "You're but a child."

Sherlock smoothened out his hair in vain, "Well you see, miss, I'm trying to understand. That's why I Ieft my planet."

She cooed, "What a polite boy! I'm glad you're not like some proud man. Well, I'll be glad to teach you a few things. You've come to the right planet! There are hundreds of books you can read here!" She stopped, "That is- if you can read." She looked at him right in the eye, "You can read, right?"

When Sherlock nodded, Eurus nearly squealed with happiness, "I've always wanted an apprentice. There is much for a child to learn to make him brilliant. Yes, yes, there is chemistry, anatomy, philosophy, maths (if you're interested)- oh!- and you must learn about my stars, Sherlock! Yes, it will be a productive four years indeed!"

"Four years!" Sherlock panicked, "Oh no, miss. I haven't that sort of time!"

"No, no, no! It would only seem like four years on this planet. You see this planet moves very fast, what would be three years here, would be around three weeks there at," He looked down on his parchment, "221B."

Sherlock's eyes widened comically, "How- how did you know that?"

She winked, "Deduction. I think you would absolutely love to learn about that." She smirked at him,

"So what? The game's on don't you think?"

"You stayed there and studied for four years under this strange woman?!" John exclaimed.

"Yes." Sherlock smiled slightly, "In fact I don't regret it. I learned many things under Eurus. She was like a sister to me, albeit a bit strange, she taught me many things."

John pressed, "Such as?"

"Well, she taught me that if I were to turkey be happy, I should be alone. Alone is what protects me. Those people that spend their time with others will easily lose their battle when up for a challenge."

"That's rubbish!" John exclaimed, "A child shouldn't be alone."

"Sentiment," Sherlock pointed out, "-is a chemical defect found on the losing side."

Sherlock continued on, ignoring John's look of pity, "Anyway, time did pass and soon my four years were rounding the corner. Eurus wanted me too stay, but I was feeling the same thing I felt at my planet. I was still unhappy. Of course I loved Eurus, I assured her of that fact, but it didn't stop the sad look on her face when she realized she would be alone again. That was when I knew I still was ignorant. In a way. I don't know people, John. I don't understand. How can they still be sad? So I grabbed my sword, called the birds and flew away. Far far away... On to this planet."

Little Sherlock felt the claws of the birds release as he tumbled down the sandy and dry terrain. "What? No! Wait!" He called to the birds, but there was no one there.

"That was one year ago," Sherlock said as he looked up onto the starry sky. "All I ever really learned when I left her, was that I never should have left her. All those little games of hers, I never really did see the affection that was underneath." Sherlock stood up, looking at the blue moon, "One should never listen to flowers, should one?

John finished cutting the paper in his hand, "I don't know. My experience is very limited." He gave Sherlock the art, and it unraveled into a chain of daisies. "I have met a daisy, but where we met was...hazy…"

Sherlock giggled at the rhyme, his spirits instantly lifted, albeit a little bit.

"And I have walked the streets with margarites, and clinging vines beside , I've met a lot of those, but I've never met my rose."


	3. Chapter 3

The bright attention-seeking sun shone yellow light on the cracks of his eyes. Sherlock cringed and blinked several times to get rid of the discomforts. Sherlock sat up and he realized that John's oatmeal colored jacket was the thing that kept him from freezing in the cool night. It was a thin jacket, but it kept Sherlock warm anyway. "Good morning!" He ran up to John.

John flung the wrench down in frustration. "Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, taking in John's rugged appearance.

"I'm fine, it's just-" John threw his arms down in the wing of the airplane and ran a hand through his sandy hair.

Sherlock frowned, "You should rest, Dr. Watson."

"Can't." John sighed, "We've run out of water. Unless we can get this motor running and off the ground..."

John looked at Sherlock's expression, and immediately doubted saying that. What was he thinking? Dumping these issues on a kid. To be fair Sherlock is just really easy to talk to. He has the brain of an adult, truly. It's almost uncanny.

"Well, I will," John assured quickly. "Don't worry, I will."

"I'm not worried." Sherlock put down John's coat on the wing and shook his head vigorously to get rid of the sand in his ebony black curls. He dusted the sand off his precious dark coat and looked into the distance, squinting.

"Good."

"We'll get water from the well."

John stopped what he was doing abruptly, "Well?"

"Yes, well." Sherlock rolled his blue-green eyes, "Do keep up, John." Sherlock pointed over yonder ahead of him, "Over there."

"What!" John turned to look, "Did you see an oasis?" John asked skeptically.

Sherlock looked personally offended, "No. But there must be one out there; life can't run without water, Dr. Watson."

John took out his binoculars and looked. He shook his head, "No. We could go out there and never find water and never find our way back to the plane." He picked up the wrench again. "I'd rather bet on the motor, at least we know it can work. Sorry Sherlock."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and indignantly picked up the leash around large metal water container and put it on like a satchel. He determinedly started walking forward and smirked a little when he saw John's head whip around to see him.

"Where are you going, Sherlock?" John sighed, already tired and it's not even 7 o' clock yet, telling by the sun.

"To the well." Sherlock said petulantly.

John clenched his jaw firm, flared his nose, and put his chin up, like his father would, trying to put down some sort of authority, "I said we were staying here."

Sherlock simply shrugged his shoulders and continued walking, "Could be dangerous..."

Of course, John could never be like his damn father.

'Christ.' How did John get from- normal, habit, mundane, monotonous to _t_ _ **h**_ _ïš_! -is far beyond him. He huffed frustrated, he was not about to walk aimlessly around the Sahara following a strange boy to a non-existent water well...

John sighed and grabbed another bottle and trudged up to Sherlock. Sherlock smirked, "Decided to come after all."

"I'm guessing you like having some suspense, the possibility of dehydration is a great adrenaline rush for you." John quips back, though there was no bite in his words.

"And I simply said the word: dangerous- and here you are," Sherlock gave him a devious smirk before laughing childishly at John's face. Bell-like laughter and throaty chuckles stretched across the empty desert.

They walked a large distance, trudging through vast terrains of sand but no water in sight. They even came across the skeleton of a giant fish-like creature, but no water. Then they walked into a tiny clearing of some skinny rough trees. John shook his head and sat on one off the logs, "This is suicide, you hear me? It's suicide!"

"Then maybe I won't have to find my friend, the snake." Sherlock bit back, the exhaustion of the trip getting to him as well.

John narrowed his eyes at the little prince, "What are you talking about?"

Sherlock scoffed, "Doesn't matter."

"Well of course it matters." John clenched his jaw at the petulance of this child, "What do you mean 'snake'?"

Sherlock continued to walk, gesturing for John to follow him, "I'll tell you about it later."

"Well," John stood up. "Tell me about it now."

"You can't draw while you're walking!"

They have been walking for ages, just seeing sand, sand, sand, sand, sand... it was driving John mad, honestly. Only seeing sand forever and ever, over and under, with only patches of grass to cling onto for hope.

Sherlock stopped suddenly, "The stars are beautiful, shining because of the flower I cannot see."

Sherlock looked up at John, "John, ask me this: why is the desert is so lovely at night?"

"Why is the desert so lovely at night?"

Sherlock smile was illuminated by the moon, giving his mouth a ghostly glow, "Millions of reasons."

John's face softened and he acting along, "Tell me just one."

"Cause at night the desert's hiding the sun."

Sherlock jumps awake and looks around, confused for a moment. He looks over to the trees in the distance and a boisterous grin make its way to his face.

"We're here! We're here!" He jumps off, shrugging off his coat and grabbing the water bottle, "John wake up! Wake up!"

John mumbles fitfully in his sleep. Sherlock huffs and puts his hand around his mouth a yells, "It's water!"

John pops awake and looked around, catching sight of the well he too ran with Sherlock and slid down the hill. There was so much water! It was everywhere a wide grin erupted and he heard Sherlock laugh as he jumped into the water.

John was whistling a happy tune as he and Sherlock got back from the well.

"You mustn't forget get your promise."

John asked, "What promise?"

"To put a muzzle on my sheep," Sherlock reminded.

John nodded, "I won't forget, but first you gotta tell me about this snake."

Sherlock groaned, "Must we do it now, John? Now?"

"Now."

Sherlock sighed sullenly, "Very well."

Sherlock sat beside him, "I met him in a tree at the entrance of the desert when I first got here. Which isn't far from here now that I think abut it... He was the first person I met, coming here. Until I met someone else, I thought everyone on this planet was a snake." Sherlock told his story watching as John drew a wide, dark and leafless tree. "I arrived on the other side of the tree..."

"Why hello there!" Cried a voice up above.

Sherlock looked around and caught site of a brown and black dotted, scaly snake. "Hello!" Sherlock spoke to him.

"You're talking to the wrong end!"

Sherlock eyes widened at the length of the creature and when he came across the head he said, "You're a funny animal. You're only a tail! Where's the rest of you?"

"I am not an animal!" He cried indignantly.

Sherlock looked confused, "Then what are you?"

"I'm a ssssssnake!" The snake was replaced by a man in a evening black business suit, wearing dark black shoes and a white tie. His hair was neatly gelled, and he grinned at Sherlock like he just found something worth spending his time. Sherlock felt flattered. He demeanor was cool and uncaring, almost dangerously so. It only made Sherlock want to along with him, maybe see some things actually interesting. To test his mind, Sherlock reassured himself, he just wants to learn.

"I'm enchanted." Sherlock nodded.

"You ssshould be, darling," The snake said smoothly.

He stuck out a gloved hand and Sherlock cocked his head to the side, looking at the hand in question strangely. The snake rolled his dark eyes and retreated his hand.

"My name's Sherlock." Sherlock greeted with a small smile.

"Sssherlock? Got a lasst name?"

"Uh..err," He thought of his dear Eurus, "-Holmes, sir."

"Sssherlock Holmess." He repeated, "Sss'got a nice ring to it." The tailored man hopped off the tree and grinned dangerously.

"Jim. Jim Moriarty," he took a dramatic bow, "-at your ssservice."

"Could you tell me where I am, please?"

"Yess, of courssse." Moriarty waved his hand around to gesture to the desert, "Thisss sssunny sssection of the sssolar sssystem is called the Sssahara."

"This planet is called the Sahara?" Sherlock frowned.

"No, no, no. This sssunny ssside with all the sssand is called the Ssahara. Thisss ssilly sstupid sssphere is called Earth."

Sherlock sighed in relief, "I thought is came to the wrong place."

"Oh you did!" He assured, nodding eagerly. "Listen, why don't you take of your sword and stay a while."

They took a walk around. Moriarty decided to talk a bit more, "You seem like the sssmart ssensible ssort. Why did you come down to thisss sslimey ssleezy ssswamp."

"I'm trying to learn sssomething," Sherlock tried to mimic what the man said.

"I ssee." Moriarty tapped his chin in false thought, "Well sir, this sspecking place is a sscholastic sssewer. All that you could learn from here is sssorrow. Ssorrow. Sso sorry!" Moriarty stopped him with a slimy hand on his shoulder, "If I were you, I would sscram.

"I can't, my flock of birds halve flown away." Sherlock looked up desperately at Moriarty.

"Ssso?"

"They brought me here."

The snake nodded his head, "Ah. I sssee."

Moriarty spun around and continued to walk slyly, his arms waving from side to side like a snake tail, "Well, you're sso lucky to have met me."

Sherlock looked at him perplexed, "Why would I be lucky?"

Moriarty smirked, like he knew something Sherlock doesn't.

It drove him mad.

"Well if someday you ever want to see your ssmall sssparkling star again, I maaay have a sssolution."

Sherlock eyes brightened and he waited for Moriarty to go on.

"You see, I have this sorta um.. er- sting. It's almost painless! It can send you sscooting out of this sad sslum and up sssailing in that sssplendiferous sky!"

"Really?!" Sherlock's eyes bugged out of his skull. Surely it can't be that easy...

The smooth man smiled slyly and nodded, "If you would like to cure the fever called life. Get some relief from all the struggle and strife."

Sherlock eyes were filled with wonder as he gazed at the easy-going man. _Way_ too easy-going, for sure. He had read about snakes with Eurus and knew that they could be conniving and manipulative creatures. But this man seems to genuinely like Sherlock. And the sting could definitely kill, but if it could get him to his planet-

To his flower...

"The grandest medicine that I can propose is under your nose," Moriarty poked his nose, getting a kiddish laugh out of him. "A snake in the grass. One sting! And you can say goodbye to all of your friends. One sting! And you'll be singing as your spirit ascends. Alls well that ends." He went back up into the tree and winked, "I'll be waiting."

John closed his booklet, "Wait- Hold on a minute." John worriedly looked at Sherlock, "Am I to understand that you are going to see that snake in order to do away with yourself."

Sherlock put on his coat, considering the night time was upon them and it was getting cold, "Well there's no other way to get to my planet. It's too far, and my birds have disappeared."

"Well of all the-! Now, you listen to me, Sherlock! That snake has poisoned you against the earth!"

"That's not what the snake said." Sherlock reasoned.

"Well, that snake's been prejudice against us since the beginning of the earth!"

"Now that's exactly what the fox said." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

And John glared at Sherlock, strange fear bubbling up in his gut, "And under no circumstance are you going to poison yourself, you hear me?"

Sherlock shrugged and stared to walk back to the plane, "And what do you mean fox, Sherlock?"

"The silver fox I met after I met the snake!"

John blinked, "I see. You've certainly gotten yourself mixed up into a strange crowd," he flatly replied.

John heaved himself up and off the rock, "Alright let's see what else you got. Where did you meet the fox?"

"In a garden of roses." Sherlock said.

"How many roses? Ten? Fifty? A hundred?"

Sherlock grimaced, "I'd rather not say, as it would be very difficult to draw."

"No! Not at all." John flipped open his book and began to draw, "Trying to get all the details here."

Sherlock wandered the fields of roses in a sullen mood. "If she knew there were hundreds of roses that looked just like her, it would break her heart," Sherlock whispered to himself.

"Good morning." A rusty voice called out.

Sherlock whipped his head around to look for the voice. He shook his head, 'Now I'm seeing things.'

"I thought I was rich. I thought I had the most unique flower in all the world. But all I had was a common rose. A common rose and three volcanoes that reach my knees." Sherlock barked out a forced laugh, "That doesn't make me a very good prince."

"Good morning." Said the voice again.

Sherlock turned again just in time to meet eyes with a silver haired fox, hiding behind a tree.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him and wiped away his tears quickly, "What do you think you're doing? You scared me!"

"That's not a very proper good morning," the fox chastised, shaking his head.

Sherlock huffed, "Good morning." He walked forward to get a look at the silvery fox.

The fox ran, silver fur glinting in the sun, to another tree and hid. "You're a prince?" He asked.

Sherlock nodded, "Sherlock..um... Holmes." The fox smiled politely, "I'm a fox. Greg Lestrade."

"Is your last name actually Homes?"

Sherlock sputtered, "Wh-What do you mean?"

"You hesitated." Lestrade explained simply. Then he shrugged, "It's alright. It's my job to figure that sort of thing. There was a murder in these woods before, and I saw a detective figuring out a murder. Granted he was a human, but it didn't stop me from wanting to be one anyway."

"Could you..play with me?" Sherlock looked for a way to get rid of this sad feeling, and when he was feeling sad Eurus would play a deduction game with him. She'd always win though, but sometimes they'd play hide n' seek. They were rare, but they were the best days...

"Play?" Lestrade chuckled, "No."

"Why not?" Sherlock was confused, but not hurt. He was not hurt.

Lestrade ran again to another tree that was farther away, "Because you're human. And humans have guns."

"I don't have a gun." Sherlock said.

"Well of course you have a gun, you're human!" Lestrade chuckled again.

"That's a faulty deduction right there, Gavin."

"Greg." Lestrade corrected with furrowed eyebrows, "And what do you mean 'faulty deduction'? And where are your other hunter friends?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the fox's prejudice. How dim. "There is no one else here."

"No one else? Just you?"

"Just me, Graham."

"Greg." Lestrade looked suspicious but observed him, "You don't have a gun."

"No."

"...Huh."

"Let's play hide n' seek. "Sherlock suggested.

Lestrade shook his head, "I can't."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked exasperated and tired of turning around so much.

"I'm not tame."

"What does that mean," he asked, but immediately got the jif when a Lestrade itched his neck viciously.

Lestrade took off again, bounding to another tree. "Could you please stop doing this! It's making me dizzy."

Lestrade appeared behind him again, "Sorry, I don't wanna become extinct." Lestrade look human now. Sherlock could get a good look at him as Lestrade leaned against a tree. His short cut silver hair was messily grooms on his head. He wore a striped button up shirt and a thin forest green jacket. He grinned at Sherlock cheekily, wondering how this is going to turn out.

"You mean if I move you'll move again?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're a human! I'm a fox!" Lestrade explained slowly, "Foxes hunt chickens. And humans hunt foxes!"

Sherlock had the strong urge to facepalm himself, "But I'm just a boy! I can't shoot a quick fox."

"That was what the other one said." Lestrade cringed. "Poor Anderson..."

"I also don't have any guns!"

Lestrade sighed, "You're a human being, Sherlock, of course you have a gun."

"I don't!-"

"You're also prone to lie," pointed Lestrade.

Sherlock shook his head, "I don't lie."

"Then you're inhuman." Lestrade grinned.

Lestrade sighed at Sherlock's confusion and took a seat by the tree, "To be tamed- let me now if you're going to move!- Let's see if this is going to clear it up. Beneath being a prince, you're a little boy. Like a million and a half other little boys. And I'm a fox, like all the million and half other foxes. But if you tame me." Lestrade shook his head, "I won't be like all the other foxes, and you won't be like all the other little boys. I will be unique to you, and you'll be unique to me, do you understand?"

Sherlock pursed his lips together and wrung his hands, "Sort of." He stepped forward to talk more, but Lestrade disappeared.

"Where are you?!"

"You moved!" The fox yelled.

"Sorry!" Sherlock cursed the fox's habits, but he can't really be blamed for them. "It won't happen again! I promise," he said when he spotted Lestrade up in a tree.

"My life is very monotonous," Lestrade continued. "I hunt chickens. Men hunt me. They come. I hide. They leave. I come out." He shrugged, "That's all."

Lestrade hopes down to the leafy ground and walked up to Sherlock, but still a good distance away. "But," he held a finger up. "If you tamed me, everything would be different. Even the black crows."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that, "The crows."

"Yes, even the dark crows. The crows are the color of midnight, like your coat. I'm a fox and I don't care for the crows very much, and vice versa." Lestrade smiles softly, "But if we become friends, I'll start to care about those dark black crows, because they'll remind me of you."

Sherlock felt something warm and familiar, but very rare tingle inside. He only felt that for when he first met Irene and a while after Eurus. This one was different though. It was different because he actually had a choice in this. For Eurus and his flower, he either had to take care of her or remember his real reason for staying was to learn. He didn't have to be friends with Lestrade... but he wanted to be.

"I'm going to sit down now," Sherlock warned.

Sherlock went forward and sat on a wide old stump, "What would I have to do?"

"Well," Lestrade started, "everyday you would come here and sit where you're sitting now. At about, let's say four in the afternoon. You'd come at the same time, and I would get excited at about three o' clock. If you came at any old time, I wouldn't get a chance to get key'd up."

"But what would I do when I come?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"No, of course not. If you were to do anything I would get frightened and run away."

Lestrade gave a small smile, "In time I'll start to feel at ease, show my face, and will beginter get closer and closer and closer."

The fox walked slowly up to the Sherlock and smirked. "We'll go a glance at a time. A small advance, mind you. We'll be afraid a bit. And shy a bit. Avoid each others eye a bit. Less often each day the ice'll soon soften as we get closer and closer and closer." Lestrade opened his mouth and hesitated, "Do you like rhymes?"

When Sherlock nodded, Lestrade continued with a toothy whit grin.

"We'll go a blush at a time. A happy flush at a time. Begin to laugh a bit. And stare a bit. And walk around on air a bit."

"Can't rhyme 'a bit' with 'a bit'," Sherlock pointed out.

"Smarty-pants, I see," Lestrade muttered under his breath. He shrugged, "I can get used to it."

"As gaily we grow. As night and daily we grow. A little closer and closer and closer-"

"Doesn't rhyme," Sherlock stated again, but that doesn't stop the shy smile from appearing on his face.

"And then one day. There'll come a day. A Christmas eve. Midsummer day. A moment when, right there and then." Lestrade came right up to Sherlock, his eyes showing no fear anymore. "We're gonna touch," Lestrade flicked Sherlock's nose, and Sherlock tapped Lestrade's coat stubbornly.

They both grinned at the same time.

"Then we'll jump miles at a time!" Lestrade hopped onto a rock.

"A million smiles at a time," Sherlock grin was so wide it could've split his face.

"Begin to love a lot!"

"And live a lot!"

"And give and give and give a lot!" Lestrade yelled.

"Away we will go!" Sherlock's laugh was loud enough to be heard by the crows.

"And every day we will grow!"

They shouted to the very top of there lungs, "A little closer and closer and closer and closer and closer and closer and closer and closer all the time!"

"After I tamed him," Sherlock said to John. "We stayed together for quite a while. But then one day I had to say goodbye." Sherlock shook his head, and his eyes were a little bit wet. Just a little bit. Sherlock brought out a piece of paper and began to fiddle with it in his nervous hands. He gulped and continued.

"I think I'm going to cry," Lestrade said as he looked out into the trees. They were sitting on a tall wide tree.

"I didn't want to make you upset, but you asked me to tame you." Sherlock desperately explained.

Lestrade nodded silently.

"And I haven't done you much good, have I? It's all been a waste of time."

Lestrade shook his head, smiling only slightly, "No. Because you've wasted so much time for me, you've made me feel so important."

"But, now I feel responsible for you."

Lestrade chuckled, "I should've warned you that would happen." He nodded, "You always feel responsible for what you've tamed."

"The moment he said that," Sherlock said. "I realized everything. He was right, when I tamed him, played with him, took time with him, he was unique to me, than to all the other foxes. Just the same for my flower, who was different than any other flower. I fetched a screen for her, put a skull over her at night, listened to her grumbles, and she was _my_ rose. I was responsible for her. So I knew I had to go back to her."

Lestrade's silver hair bounced up and down as he ran through he fields of roses to catch up to Sherlock.

"I have a present for you," he said. He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a white slip of paper, "It's a secret, so I wrote it down for you." He handed it to Sherlock and Sherlock barely muttered a thank you before he grabbed onto the dark green coat and hugged his friend.

He wiped his tears away, and was completely confused at his reaction. He'd never really cried before, but he just couldn't stop.

 _And he didn't want to let go._

"The last time I saw him, he was sitting in a wheat field," Sherlock said quietly.

"What did the note say?" John asked curious what could be so important. Sherlock handed John the note he was fiddling with and he opened it carefully.

It said:

 _'It's only with the heart that one can see clearly. What's essential is invisible to the eye.'_


	4. Chapter 4

**HERE WE GO! THE FINAL CHAPTER OF THE BOOK! WHOOP WHOOP! I really do hope you guy'll enjoy it! ;)**

It was barely dawn when Sherlock awoke again. Not like he was surprised, really. He spent the entire night thinking. Then around what seemed to be midnight he slept, only to be woken up half an hour later by his rampaging thoughts. That was hours ago.

There was just so much going on in his head. It was difficult to even pin point one exact thing. It swam like tiny fish jumping out of the water for a second before finally diving back down into the deep ocean that was Sherlock's mind. And he the fisher, trying with all his might to get a grip on the creature, but then it slips of his hands like butter.

The person that seemed to capture Sherlock's undivided attention was a certain snake.

Jim Moriarty.

The man was manipulative, Sherlock knew that already. But it doesn't matter whether Moriarty wants him dead or not. Sherlock wants his flower. He wants to see her again, and the very thought of her staying alone aches his heart.

Sherlock didn't actually come to a decision before he felt himself getting up from the sand and ruffling the minerals out of his hair. He quickly picked up his dark coat and his dusty sword and put them on. His excited winter eyes fell upon the sleeping figure of John.

Kind John.

Oh, he's going to be so disappointed.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whispered silently. "But I must do this."

He looked at the booklet that isn't far from his reach and ripped a pice of paper and stuffed it into his pocket. He also grabbed the small used up pencil. He put them both inside his jacket pocket, just in case, and he took one last look at John before he set off to the leafless tree.

...

...

"Ahhh, Sssherlock Holmesss! What a sssurprise," Moriarty greeted when he saw Sherlock grudge his way to him. "Thought you gave up on my little offer."

Sherlock shook his head, "No, sir."

"Great!" Moriarty slid down the tree, and, as a man, he leaned against the tree bark, smirking ominously.

"I knew you were a sssmart one." He slowly slithered his way up to Sherlock, tapping his shoulders and whispering into his ear, "Are we ready?"

Sherlock gulped, "H-How about we play a- a game first?" Maybe he could stall. Maybe he didn't actually have to leave John this way. Maybe he could find another way. Maybe John didn't have to alone this way...

Moriarty raised and eyebrow, then his expression smoothed again. "I do looove my games..." At Sherlock's relieved face he smirked, "But I like this one more."

Sherlock face immediately went dull, "What do you think, Sher? Are you game? Or are just like every other sstupid waste of ssskin that roams this earth?"

There was a moment of silence. Sherlock didn't think he would have any hesitations. He thought he would just say yes and move on. He didn't think that there would be anything to keep him here. Anyone to keep him here. But once again he was dead wrong. He hated being wrong, it made so many things so utterly complicated.

There was John.

Damn him.

John also had a hold on his heart. Like Irene.

"I don't think I want this anymore, Mr. Moriarty," Sherlock fiddled with his blue scarf that was loosely wrapped around his neck.

"Oh!- don't tell me that 'human' convinced you about how good the earth is. And you're on their side now." Moriarty sneered and shook his head, "You're on the sside of the angelss."

"No, Mr. Moriarty. The people here, well the adults are horrible. They are condescending and rude. They only talk and don't listen to a word you say. No, sir, this place is horrible." Sherlock paused to see if the snake was actually listening. He was, his dark eyebrow was raised in question and he looked a little intrigued.

"But John isn't. And I think that's what I've come to learn about. This sentiment. People and their feelings. I used to think that it was a weakness, but now- now I realize its a great strength. It's what pushed me after all these years to get to my flower. John is unlike any other person I've met. Had it been him I met first I would have stayed. So no, Mr. Moriarty, I cannot take your offer. I want to stay on earth." Sherlock then narrowed his eyes, "I may be on the side of the angels, Jim Moriarty, but don't waste your time to think that I am one of them."

Moriarty's face was blank, and Sherlock had a feeling he just said the wrong thing. Then his mouth twitched. It was when his mouth was upturned in a total sadistic smile that Sherlock knew he was in deep ice water.

"Your right," Moriarty chuckled. "You're not like them. You're me."

Sherlock denied that statement immediately, but Moriarty just nodded along. "Yesss, you're just like me. But uh..."

Sherlock lifted his head with wide eyes, "Well, you cccertainly can't change your mind now."

He should have stayed. He should have listened to John. He shouldn't have come here. He should have waited for John. John John John John.

 _Dear God Dr. Watson, please help me._

"Let's make another deal, huh?" If possible Moriarty's sadistic smirk grew larger. "If you don't take my offer, I'll bite John. Yesss, yes. I know the doctor is here with you, I've been watching. And he'ss most probably on his way now. Ssso, Mr. Holmes if you want Dr. Watson and your old buddy the fox- Lesstrade was it?- to keep on living in this sssad excusse of a planet, I ssuggest you take my previous offer."

At Sherlock's horrified and betrayed face the snake's mouth curled into a crude smirk, "It's just business baby."

The world fell out from under him. He's lost. He lost against the snake. He has no choice now. It's over. It isn't a game anymore. At least for him, it wasn't. The only player was Moriarty. He was just the prize.

He was played.

When Sherlock nodded his head, Moriarty smiled hungrily, showing his sharp venomous teeth.

"P-Please just allow me this one thing?" He took out the paper and pencil from his pocket and looked to Moriarty. "Please."

...

...

"Eureka!" John yelled happily. He hums as he listens to the engine purr to life and watches the wings at the front spin again.

"I need air!" He laughs.

He excitedly jumps out of the plane and looks for that familiar mop of brown hair, "Hey, it works! It works! Sherlock!" He can bring Sherlock with him. He doesn't have to see that manipulative snake, Moriarty, again. John would make sure. He'll show Sherlock so many things. What it would be like to have friends his age. Sherlock deserved it. If he could only find him...

He looks around and frowns, "Sherlock? Where are you?"

He looks into the distance and breaks into a run.

...

...

Sherlock's eyes widen as he looks into the distance and sees a frantic figure running his way. _Oh God he's too soon._

Sherlock pockets the letter and gulps the large lump that made its way to his throat.

"It's now or never, Ssherl." The snake said casually, "Watsson or you? What's it gonna be?"

"Don't call me that." Sherlock grunted but nodded his head nonetheless.

Moriarty smirked and his eyes brightened. He went back to his snake and curled up around Sherlock's left boot.

That was the time when John looked to see Sherlock by the tree; the snake made its bite.

"No. Wait, no."

Sherlock's eyes shut closed and he fell to the sandy floor. John was by his side before he even started running.

"No, no, no, no, no." He kept muttering his words as he felt for a pulse.

There was a weak one. A little one.

"By God, what have you done."

Sherlock smiled tiredly at the doctor, "I didn't expect you to get here so fast."

"So you knew I would come here?" John tried his very hardest not to yell.

Sherlock avoided the question, "There's a letter in my pocket." He tapped his finger on the right side of his coat. John took it out and looked to Sherlock, "What is this?"

"It's my note." Sherlock smiled wryly, "Isn't that what people do when they have someone they're leaving behind."

"No, stop it." John shook his head in denial, "You're just kid, Sherlock. You shouldn't be-" he was gripping the paper so tightly his knuckles were white.

He was about to look at the injury and try whatever he can to fix it, but by God He was in the middle of the desert. He doesn't have a first aid kit (not like that could do much), much less a hospital.

"No, don't." Sherlock turned to John with pleading eyes, "Don't."

John let go.

"I'm glad you fixed your engine," Sherlock smiled. "Now you can go home."

John nodded, ignoring the harsh stinging in his eyes, "Yes."

"I meant you could go to London, Doctor Watson. London is your home. We should all stay in our homes, or else, we would never be happy. And what is the point of life if you're not happy? That's why I'm going home too."

Seeing this wasn't making John any happier, Sherlock decided to change the subject.

"You must keep your promise, you know."

John blinked, "What promise?"

"You know, to make a muzzle for my sheep?"

John laughed and shook his head. "Please? You promised."

"Please."

John sighed and rubbed his nose. He got put a piece of paper and the pencil from the child and started to draw the muzzle.

"Don't forget fence. She needs a fence."

John nodded silently and finished the drawing.

Sherlock smiled, "It's a very nice drawing, thank you." He pocketed it in his pants.

John felt his hands, "You're as cold as ice." He looked to Sherlock and asked, "Are you afraid?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I shan't be, I'm going home, John. So, if you please- leave me?"

John looked at him for a moment. Silent. He took a shuttering breath before shaking his head, "No. No I can't. I won't" With that he heaved Sherlock up and carried him to the way of the plane. He caught site of a brown and forest green snake in the leafless tree.

"I don't want you to suffer." Sherlock said. "It would like I would be dead, but it won't be true."

John shook his head.

...

Sherlock's eyelids were getting heavier, like sacks of grain. It's too heavy for me to carry this body with me, you understand don't you?" Sherlock mumbled, "It'll be like an old abandoned shell. There nothing sad about shells, is there?"

...

They make it back to the plane, and John carefully lays the little boy down on the sand.

Sherlock's eyes are filled with stars as he looks up into the evening night. "My star is so small, I can't tell you where it is. I'm going back to it now, but before I do I want to give you something."

"All I want is to hear you laugh again."

Sherlock's smiled sideways, "You will hear me laugh, because on one of those stars I'll be laughing. But you won't know which one. So it'll seem like all the stars are laughing. It'd be like a bell that's hanging from all the stars in sky." Sherlock sighed, feeling so tired, "That's all."

He breathed in a breath, "You should write a book."

"What?"

"About me, John. Write it and it's sure to get you enough money to live in London."

John chuckled, "You're so sure."

"Well of course I am. People can be so- I don't know- dull. They need something to brighten up they're lives."

John smiled a little, "I'll do it. People would love to talk about the strange little boy a doctor met in the desert." He joked.

"People do little else," Sherlock said.

John chuckled and smiled at Sherlock, "Thank you."

Sherlock nodded jerkily.

John frowned, "Sherlock."

"I'm sorry, John."

...

"Oh, Little Prince don't take your smile away from me."

...

 _Dear Doctor Watson,_

 _I'm terribly sorry to inform you that I'll be leaving this planet. Leaving you here. But hopefully the plane should be working now and you'll be flying away back to your home in Paris. (We're both going to be flying home, how funny. I'm laughing, can you hear me? John, look at the stars.)_

...

The skies are laughing.

John is grinning as his plane takes flight. Yes, Sherlock I hear you

...

 _And maybe you'll be able to afford the money to live in London._

...

"Hello, do you have any flats available?" John asked an older blonde woman, wearing a flowery pink dress with a big smile. "My buddy pointed me in this direction."

"Yes!" She smiled happily, "We have one right here in 221B!" She gave him the keys, then she hesitated and gasped. "Your the author of that book- what's the name, oh yes!- The Little Prince!"

John nodded smiling a little at the woman's interest, "Yes, that's me."

"Doctor John H. Watson, it's a pleasure to meet you." She smiled and shook his arm.

"Just, John is fine." He grinned back, "And likewise, Mrs..."

"Hudson." She finished, "Ms. Hudson, though you don't have to call me Mrs. just Miss is fine."

John chuckled, "All Right, Ms. Hudson."

She patted his shoulder, "Well, just because I'm your landlady doesn't mean you can't stop by for a chat. Come in, I'll make you some tea."

"Thank you, and some biscuits if you've got any."

"I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper."

...

 _I know you're upset, probably even mad at me for doing such a thing, but it was the only way I could get home, John. You understand don't you? I have to get back to my flower, because she's mine and she has a hold on my heart, just as I her. I left thinking that the most important thing is knowing and learning absolutely everything. I thought that the point of life is to uncover its secrets and use it to your advantage. I was wrong. I see that now. It's to meet new people._

...

"Doctor John Watson, is your name?"

John nodded, "Yes, I was hoping to help out the Yard with some of these crime scenes. Like how I did last week. And the week before. And the week before... Except I think I should do it professionally."

The man raised an eyebrow, "You're that doctor that always comes 'round here?"

"Well- er.. I wouldn't say always, but uh yeah."

The detective gave John a once over, looking at John him and seeing there was no reason to be suspicious, "You any good?"

John nodded once, "Very good."

"Well then," The man nodded. "Welcome to the Yard."

"Thanks!" John smiled, then frowned, "-and you are..."

"Lestrade," the silver haired man jutted out an arm gruffly. "Greg Lestrade. Detective Inspector."

...

 _Make families._

...

John stared wistfully to the horizon as he sat on the black bench of the park. He sucked in the cold air and sighed listlessly. God, he missed London.

He stood up and stretched. He checked his watch, and HOLY CRAP! He's been sitting there for a whole hour. How on earth did he manage, he doesn't know. All he knows is that if he doesn't get moving now, he'll be late to work.

He grabs his coffee and took off to the right but almost immediately bumped into another runner. He felt a wet burning sensation on his shirt. He hissed out a curse when he smelled the coffee on him. There goes his energy for the day.. He shut his mouth when he set eyes on a gorgeous woman staring at him with wide eyes.

"Oh, God! I am so sorry! I'm so clumsy this morning!" She but her lip in nervousness. "Here I have napkins." She gave him a few napkins, but his shirt was definitely ruined.

It's a white shirt.

"I-It's alright." John reassured, "Really it's no big deal."

"Oh but you're shirt is ruined," she cringed when she realized it _was_ white.

John waved it off, "It was my fault."

She shook her head and laughed. "Oh really? How on earth are you gonna make it up to me?!"

John grinned, "You know I could buy you a drink?"

The woman pondered a bit and tapped her chin thoughtfully, "That may be able to compensate the price for the events that went down."

At John's face she laughed, "All right I cave!" She smiled (Gosh she was beautiful) "Here's my number," she wrote it on one of the napkins and gave it to him. "Call me!" She yelled as she started to go away.

John smiled back then he froze and frantically called back, "Wait! What's your name?!"

She smirked at him, "Mary!"

"John," he yelled back.

He stared at the number in his hands in a daze.

 _Mary..._

...

 _And explore the world. I truly do understand what the fox said about the heart. And my heart lies at my tiny planet, 221B, somewhere far into the solar system, and I need to go back to her, do you understand, John? It's like your home in London. But I believe you should know that I also left a little bit of my heart on Earth. THat piece is my best friend. His name is Doctor John Watson, and he's the best man I know. And maybe someday, I'll see him again. But hopefully not for a long time._

 _Sincerely Yours,_

 _Sherlock "Holmes" SH_


End file.
